


Allegiance to the Moon

by WolvesOfParadise



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalypse, Dystopian, M/M, Meteor, Seeking A Friend for the End of the World, end of the world as we know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolvesOfParadise/pseuds/WolvesOfParadise
Summary: It's not that he didn't want to die, he just didn't want to die. Especially alone.And it's not like he was just going to find some random person who didn't have the means to kill him. After all, the world is ending, literally ending, and this isn't some cliche, romantic teenage novel. He was prepared to be alone for the end, and that was that.It isn't a cliche book, either, because someone comes along and he doesn't fall in love with him or it ends with tears as bloodshed.Witness the end of the world told through a 21 year old’s eyes, through dancing, freedom, and a lot of coffee.





	Allegiance to the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs. Crystal Sunell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mrs.+Crystal+Sunell).



It was quiet, and he was alone. In his apartment yes, and possibly the entire city, too. Pitiful- curled up on his ratty donated couch with several layers of clothes that probably aren't even his own, and three heavy blankets. Just enough to keep off the chill, even though there really wasn't a chill in the room. No, it was just him, anxiety racking his entire being with shivers. With ash-blonde hair that was a few days unwashed and messily thrown up into a low ponytail sweeping the back of his neck and green eyes that stared dull, expressionless at the television in the corner of the room, he had never felt so low. The screen and sound of the television was strong- it had an effect on him that it really shouldn't have, but it's not like he could do anything about it.

 

But, maybe that was just him too. The television was a source of constant, endless noise, white noise, because he barely even registered the newsman on the screen, pale faced and eyes red, talking about what the entire world was in a temporary state of panic over. It was just white noise, and maybe he thought, if he didn't listen to it, it would all go away. And everything would be normal again.

 

“-meteor Jordan, an estimated one hundred miles wide by NASA, is on a direct collision course with earth-”

 

Yeah. He thought wrong.

 

Stretching out his thin, bony legs that not even layers upon layers of clothing managed to hide the skinniness of, he winced slightly when his foot, that had fallen asleep due to the excessive lack of use on his part, reminded him that it was going to hurt if he tried to stand on it. He cast a glance over to the television, and debated for a second on whether he actually wanted to go and switch the thing off. When he finally did stand, with less weight on one leg than the other, it was apparent on just how thin he was. He wasn't dangerously thin or anything, he had always had a leaner, smaller type of body, though he stood at a good five foot eleven, and he had at one point ran track for his college team. But he was getting weaker, and wasn't really moving around or exercising as much as he used to.

 

And yet, here he was. His name was Denver Woods, and these were the final days of his life.

 

Turning off the television, he went to the kitchen to get a cup of the little remaining coffee he had. He relied on the small stuff now- the things that people had taken for granted back in the day. His kitchen wasn't exactly messy, but it was cluttered and cold, and Denver had to reach up high into a cupboard to get a cup. He filled the cup with the still-warm coffee from the military grade metal tin he had gotten from his father, and stared at the sugar container, wondering if he wanted to use up the rest or save it.

 

Deciding to save it, he went his way back to the living room, and pulled the blinds in an attempt to brighten up the room a little. Maybe, if there was light, he'd get into a better mood and possibly do something meaningful. Probably not though, and yet he still looked out the window at the light snowfall, sipping on his black coffee. The meteor wasn't yet visible during the daytime, but it would be soon. Denver realized that if there was no meteor, or at least no knowledge of a meteor that was going to crash into the earth and wipe out all that exists, that would have been a normal day in a city. 

 

It wasn't just that the world was coming to an end, it was about the other people. It was about the people who didn't have a chance, like his best friend’s kids. His best friend (James Hearthland) was put in the excruciating position of having to tell his children that in just a little over two weeks, they'd be dead. It wasn't like they were adults and could easily and completely understand this either, no, one was only 7, and the other one, the little baby of the family, was 5. They didn't seem to quite understand it, and it only broke James more, because he couldn't stand to watch them play happily on the floor while he made phone call after phone call while he could.

 

That was four days ago. Phone lines were cut off the day after, and wifi was gone as of that day.  Water still worked, thank god, and so did the electricity, but nobody knew exactly how long they had until both of those were gone as well. It just  _ wasn't fair _ , either. Everyone on Earth had had hopes and dreams and a life to live, but no longer.

 

He was mourning what he had never had in life, for example, a wife (even though Denver had never really been interested in marriage) and kids. He was content on spending his future child money spoiling his best friend’s kids, and spoiling the partners he had once had while dating them. He mourned how alone he was too, sitting in the hell-hole he called an apartment, with a set fate that meant he was going to die alone. Completely. Alone.

 

The world would keep turning after the meteor hit, after all. But nothing on the planet would be alive to see it.

 

The meteor was visible during the daytime, and especially during the night now. It was terrifying. There was no more hope when you looked at the sky now- nevermind that there was hope before that day, either. There was nothing that could make you think, “Hey, maybe it's a joke, surely this isn't real.” 

 

It was white, or appeared white, the meteor did. It made Denver uneasy when he looked at it, and it made his stomach churn. It's like it had cursed humanity to a fate that wasn't changeable. And that's exactly what it had done, too.

 

And just as Denver was getting worked up over this, his cup taking the pressure of his clenched hands very well, and his breathing was getting a little ragged, making room for the panic attack he was about to have- he saw them.

 

He saw the figure making their way up the street at a rather quick pace, following a sort of beeline straight for Denver’s apartment building, he wasn't sure what to think or do. He figured that maybe the person needed help, or perhaps lived in the same building as himself, and maybe he should go find out. They didn't appear threatening, in fact they looked to be injured, walking with a limp in their gate. So, he decided to meet them up the main stairwell from the doorway in the alleyway, the only entrance and exit that was still unblocked. He left without a weapon, too, but didn't really care.

 

Denver opened the door to his tiny living space, and made his way out. He had shed a few jackets, and was only currently wearing a thicker type of sweatshirt and an old pair of skinny jeans that had once fit him but now bagged at the knees and ankles, but nevertheless he shivered. It was still technically spring, despite the snow that still fell outside, and it was still a little chilly. The stairwell was quiet, and he thought he could hear water dripping onto the concrete floor somewhere farther down the staircase. He flinched at the loud, creaking sound that the door to the outside omitted, and saw the light that flashed downstairs as the door opened and closed.

 

When the person began to head up the stairs, it became apparent that Denver knew the person. Well, he didn't really  _ know  _ him, but he had seen him around the building before. He was a tenant, just like a Denver was. Alec or Alex or something, his name was. When he saw Denver standing up on the top of the stairs, watching him come up, his eyes widened slightly, and he gave a half smile.

 

“Well,” came a surprisingly deep voice from such a young looking man. “I was wrong. I'm not alone in the city after all.”

 

Unsure what he was going to respond with, Denver just replied with whatever came to mind first.

 

“I was wondering if there was anyone else. I don't fancy dying alone, you see.”

 

There was a smirk, then one more step crossed, before Denver frowned. There was something off about Alex’s -he hoped that was his name- manner and appearance, before he got up the nerve to ask him: “Are you injured?”

 

There was no warmth left in Denver’s body by that point, and every breath he exhaled bled out with white blood through the cool air, clouding between the two strangers. When he looked into the other man’s eyes, he could see the empty void there was before the world was told it was ending, and they were the kind of eyes Denver would have wanted to wake up and see every morning. Though now they didn't sparkle, they just stared. Empty. Exhausted. 

 

“I’m not 100%, but right now I don't think anyone really is.” Denver could tell that the man might have been foreign, maybe, or was visiting English countries  so often that he had unintendedly picked up an accent.

 

“Would you- would you like to come inside?” Denver said, his throat dry. “I don't have very good sounding food, but I ‘ave coffee from earlier? And sugar to go with it?” Maybe he had enough for the two of them. If not, the other man could have it. Anything to make a friend to stay by his side while the world was falling to pieces around them. “My name is Denver,” he supplied, trying to cease the awkward silence.

 

“Alex.” Alex said, after a moment spent thinking about how exactly he was going to answer the offer of warm coffee and sugar, something he hadn't had in days. “And- yeah. Sure. I'd appreciate that.”

 

With a nod, Denver began to lead the way back up to his apartment, even though it was an easy place to pick out. For one, he still had the lights on. And secondly, it was the only room that was still open. Everything else wasn't locked or anything, it was just closed, doors shut and blinds drawn. Quiet.

 

The coffee was still warm when Denver led Alex back to the apartment, and Alex dutifully stripped off his damp jacket and shoes, leaving him shivering and cold. It wasn't like Denver to have guests over, and he awkwardly guided Alex to the bathroom, giving him a spare towel out of the closet that hadn't been used in almost a week, and promised him fresh clothes waiting for him when he got out of the shower.

 

And Denver got him those clothes, left them sitting on the side of the sink while he went to pour two cups of coffee. He had to reach up, standing on the tips of his toes, stretching his body to try and grab a final coffee cup for Alex, when his balance screwed him over, he had ignored the warning signs that something was off, maybe he hadn't been eating enough, maybe he was sick. 

 

His balance gave out, and he fell to one side, the coffee mug that he had barely just gotten his hand clasped around crashing against the drafty hardwood floor that he fell onto also, landing on the broken glass.

 

There was pain, yes, but the anxiety and anger and everything was getting to him, and it was taking over his being, and he couldn't feel the pain of the glass shards digging into his skin, piercing through his shirt and cutting into him. He was delirious in his tears, the pressure ringing in his ears and the emptiness of his lungs as he tried to inhale only to choke on whatever breath he had. 

 

He felt the warm trickle of blood pressed between the sleeves of his shirt and his lacerated skin, and his vision was going black from lack of oxygen, his mind slowly fading away until all that was left was the dull thump of the pulse he could feel in the cuts.

 

He came to on his couch, the same one he had begun the last two weeks of his life on, blanket around him. This was the same way he was when the world basically went into a riot, the news had popped on, interrupting some cheesy kids movie to tell him and everyone else that hey, you're gonna die, and there's nothing they can do about it. He took a deep breath, his throat raw from whatever screaming he had most likely done while unconscious, and cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, curling up against himself as if to keep himself from remembering that he indeed, did exist. 

 

And once again he felt the hands on him, rubbing his shoulders and attempting to comfort him in the best way possible, only this time the hands were the slightest bit unsure. He let his hands fall from his face and rubbed at his red, swollen eyes with a shirt sleeve, and finally looked up at the figure sitting in front of him. 

 

Alex was there, dressed in the warm sweatpants that Denver had given to him, and an old college sweater that he bought when he thought he was going to go to college. His facial expression was warm but slightly concerned, and he felt fingers brush a part of his arm that he couldn't feel very well. 

 

“You didn't hurt yourself too bad,” Denver heard Alex mumble. “It's not as bad as I thought it would be.”

 

Denver could feel the other’s breath on the side of his neck, and he moved away slightly, not sure what to think. He could feel the embarrassment flooding through him, and he felt his face warm with an incoming blush.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I'm really sorry-” He wheezed, his voice rough and choked from the tears that he had shed not even five minutes before that.

 

Alex said nothing more, sitting with Denver, his oil black curls still damp around the edges, and just watched him, seemingly knowing that Denver would calm down on his own time, nothing he could do to help. And eventually Denver did, and maybe he wasn't 100 percent okay but he was still better than he had been before. Alex barely said a word, instead twisted around to get a fresh cup of coffee that he had made at some point while Denver was unconscious, and passed it over to the blonde.

 

“There wasn't any glass buried in your arm, but I still wrapped it up anyways. It was bleeding, though not heavily.” Alex commented, with a small laugh at the end, and gestured to where the towel that Denver had left him was discarded on the floor, thin streaks of blood staining it. 

 

“I must've ruined your shower,” Denver murmured as he leaned back into Alex, his mind and body too heavy to be thinking about anything more. He brought his knees up to his chest, circling them with his arms, and placing his chin on his knees. His hands still held the coffee that Alex had given him, and Denver was grateful for the warmth.

 

“It's just fine,” Alex told him in response. He sounded much different from the man that Denver had met on the stairwell. He sounded like he had more energy, less tired and a bit more alive.

 

It was a stark comparison to how Denver felt, he for one hadn't felt alive in weeks, even before he had turned on the news that one day to learn that he wouldn't have a chance and wouldn't have a future. He felt cursed, and he knew that Alex probably felt the same way, but just wasn't showing it at that moment. 

 

Denver gave a small cough, attempting to clear his throat somewhat. “I'm sorry about- about before.” He wasn't really sorry about the fit he had, or even that he cried so hard his throat was raw, but he was sorry that Alex had been there to see it, and even more sorry that Alex felt responsible for him.

 

“We all cope in our own ways.”

 

There was silence, and Denver could hear Alex’s breathing. The thought of being alone in the dead silence with a useless arm and no hope left was creeping into his mind. Even though Denver didn't know him, Alex was pretty much a stranger, but he  _ was still someone _ . And it felt too selfish to ask, but he knew that if he didn't ask now, Alex could get up and leave, and Denver would be stuck alone again. No, he didn't want that.

 

“Do you have someone?” He asked, and immediately took a long drink of coffee burning his tongue but it felt good, and it was something to distract him from himself and his mind, and the outside world. He thought of his parents, his best friend and his wife and kids, and his sister and aunt back in his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah.

 

When Alex shook his head, Denver could see that he had the same facial expression as when they were standing inside the stairwell, seeing each other for the first time. It was the look of a broken man. He sounded lonely when he spoke next, and it went straight into Denver’s soul because that's exactly how he felt as well. Feeling like his entire being was shattering piece by piece.

 

“Everyone is back in Los Angeles. There's no way to get there now, no way to call or text them. My extended family is still in England, and god knows with the riots there and the storms and earthquakes if they're okay..” Alex hesitated, and continued on with a sentence that Denver felt through his entire body. “I have no one here worth dying with.”

 

“I have a spare room,” Denver replied softly. “If you'd like to stay here, that is.” 

 

The both of them knew what the underlying message was in what Denver had just said,he was begging silently, pleading without a voice-  _ Stay here, please. Don't let me die alone. You won't have to die alone either, as long as you stay. _

 

“Okay.”

 

That was that, two desperate souls sharing their final days, not caring if they were strangers, not caring if they didn't know anything about each other. They had met before, somewhere, possibly in a past life, maybe. And that's what influenced Denver even more to ask, that maybe they had met in a past life and shared their final days with, and maybe they had shared the same fate in an event that they couldn’t have controlled, and now here they were again. They were here again, sharing the same death and the same fears and insecurities. 

 

“I don't have much for food, I'm sorry. I have a lot of instant ramen, if that's something you'd eat.” Denver finally broke the silence, as the two of them sat on the couch. They had their backs against each other, sipping their much too bitter coffees.

 

With a noise of understanding, Alex offered whatever was left in his apartment on the floor below, and Denver finally cracked a small smile. Maybe they would make it together after all. Maybe they would see the dawn of the day they were going to die, and would die together. And Denver regretted never actually talking to this man before, because he seemed like great company, and not just because the world was ending and Denver wanted- no,  _ needed _ \- someone to stay with. He was genuinely a good person. So far, anyways.

 

They sat there for hours, with a bit of casual conversation that was cut off every time it became too much for either of them. Denver found out that Alex had no siblings and he never said anything about his parents, so he never asked. He had found out that Alex was at one point a dancer, and had even once performed on Dancing with the Stars. Denver talked about his dreams to become part of the Marines, and maybe even have a family one day.

 

That conversation was more or less one of the more depressing ones, and it had immediately cut out to another small, awkward silence, and Denver sighed. At this point, sitting in the apartment he had once lived in alone, Denver was hopeless. He was hopeless to begin with, but now this just made it worse. Yes, he had found someone that was willing to stay with him and die with him, but he wasn't quite sure if that made up for what he was feeling or not. He didn't understand that either. He has gotten more years than maybe half of the entire population had gotten. And yet he did see how much Alex was doing for him, from cleaning up his blood to making fresh coffee for him and staying with him until he woke up. And then he had even agreed to move in with Denver, even though that was on both of their behalves. Neither of them wanted to die alone. 

 

What Denver didn't see, is that Alex had turned his head ever so slightly and was watching him, watching the slight glistening of his eyes and he winced when a particularly painful thought came to mind.

 

Alex shifted so Denver would slide off of his back and be leaning up against the ratty couch, and by then his coffee was gone so it didn't spill, and eyed the coat cabinet by the front door. He made a snap decision, and stood up to pull the tired blonde to his feet, gently pushing him towards the coat cabinet that hadn't been opened in a matter of days. The floor was cold beneath Denver’s feet, the chill seeping up through his thick socks, and he felt Alex take the empty coffee mug from his hand. A few noises of protest escaped Denver before Alex shushed him quickly, holding a finger up to his pale, chapped lips.

 

“Come now,” Alex gave an apologetic look to Denver as he clearly saw how much he clearly  _ did not _ want to stand up, and continued leading him to the front door. With a small amount of difficulty, he managed to get the smaller male’s arms through the same jacket he saw him in earlier that day, and slipped on one he found in the cabinet. His own jacket, though very thin but yet somehow warm, was still slightly damp from his trek through the city. “We’re going to dance.”

 

“Outside?” Denver asked, somewhat more awake and alert now than he was before, and he dutifully zipped up the front of his jacket when he saw Alex nod. 

 

“On the street, in the falling snow. It will be quite beautiful, no? We might not dance for long,  one of my legs is weaker than the other, but nevertheless we will still dance.”

 

A nd they danced, twirling around in the snow, slightly tinkles of laughter escaping them if one were to slip and fall into the snow. The sky was getting darker with the incoming evening, but it was light enough to continue on. Alex found that Denver was lighter on his feet than he had originally suspected, which made for greater and smoother moves. He still suspected that Denver might have done some sort of ballet, or even some sort of musical theater for the way that he was able to mimic Alex almost perfectly. 

 

And yet they were still out of practice, which made for much more slipping and sliding and tripping more than what would have been acceptable if they were putting on an actual show. But, Alex supposed that they  _ were  _ putting on a show, for the spirits of the people who had ended their lives before the earth was destroyed, for the spirits of the people who were the victims of the natural disasters that struck when the meteor’s interference became too much for the atmosphere to handle.

 

And maybe they were putting on a show for the meteor itself too. One small act of defiance that could and did prove to Denver and Alex that they weren't just sitting ducks, they had time to make the best of their remaining lives. Defiance was the key, showing the meteor that it would destroy them mentally. Due time, it would destroy them physically, and they would be prepared for it. Just not that moment. Denver knew this was something he would carry to whatever afterlife there was, that a complete stranger had taken him in and shown him that there was time left, that he would die alone.

 

And maybe, everything would be okay.

 

A lex was down in the apartment, asleep, and Denver had left him there when he came up to the roof for fresh air. 

 

The dance before had wiped them both out completely, drained all their energy They had made a stop to Alex’s apartment to scavenge some food for a quick dinner, and when they had entered, Denver was shocked by the sight of the destruction of the apartment itself. He could see the broken glasses and empty bottles of what Denver took to be alcohol. Alex said nothing, and Denver could see the expression on his face, and didn't say anything either.

 

Now Denver stood in the doorway of the roof, toes damp from the melting slush that was the snow. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling at that moment, perhaps it was guilt, or maybe even respect for how well he was handling himself at the moment. He had heard the door creak open, and at first he ignored it, figuring it was Alex downstairs, but when he finally realized that it wasn't anything from  _ his  _ apartment building, but it was the door on the neighboring roof, and Denver turned to see out of interest.

 

It was just a kid, no more than 13. Though his eyes were dull, they held the unmistakable look of determination and purpose, and though his stride was normal, he still walked with somewhat shaky legs. Denver suspected, since he had only had a brief glance so far, the shakiness wasn't from fear. It was from how weak the kid was, probably from hunger. Yes, Denver noted, there was no fear in this boy. Only determination. 

 

That's when the chill ran through the blonde’s spine. He knew the kid was about to do something extremely stupid, and he felt he knew what it was. There was no doubt about it. But, it wasn't like Denver could stop him, or even attempt to talk him out of it. It was like Alex told him, “If they want to leave this world on his own terms, let them. We’re all going to die sooner than we’d probably like anyways, so why bother?”

 

He watched the boy approach the edge and grit his teeth. He didn't want to see this, and he turned away, clenching his wet toes in his cold, damp socks, and began to head back down the staircase. A sound, soft and almost missable, made him stop and he gave a glance over his shoulder. The boy’s lips were moving in prayer, his head bowed and hands clasped together.

 

Something made Denver change his mind, and he wasn't quite sure what it was himself. Maybe it was the innocent, slightly angelic look on the boy’s face, and how he was probably asking forgiveness from a god who didn't even exist. Above all else, Denver found himself suddenly turning on the rough concrete stairs, his socks slipping out from underneath him, and he was yelling out to the kid, the words coming way too slow for his liking. His foot slipped and he attempted to grab onto the railing of the stairs, but he completely missed it, his fingers not even grazing the smooth wood on their way down.

 

His hands hit the concrete, tearing them open and grazing the skin off of them, and he lost the breath inside of him with a sharp gasp. And the world suddenly seemed slowed, and it seemed that the world had turned HD as well. He could see everything, from the white wisps of his warm breath against the cold air, to the wind gently blowing aside the boy’s hair as he fell.

 

Denver realized at that moment that a simple hand reached out and a scream that tore his vocal chords to shreds couldn't save someone this time. The sound of the boy hitting the ground made him jerk violently, as it sounded like a sack of flour that had been dropped by a careless store worker, and he forced himself to stand, and had the railing in a death grip as he went down the stairway. He passed the room where Alex was, hesitating as he thought if he should go get him or not. 

 

_ No, _ he decided at last.  _ This is my fault, my doing, and I need to deal with it, not bring someone else into it. _ He made it to the outside emergency door, the closest to the alleyway that wasn't blocked off, and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. The ground inside the alleyway and right outside the door to the building were slippery, as the ice hadn't yet melted. He pressed on, and stopped right in front of the crumpled body that had once housed a living, breathing person who had once had hopes and dreams and a future, just like everyone else.

 

The eyes of the boy, still open, stared back at Denver with emptiness, and he choked on the words that he was attempting to say.

 

He knew that he had given up on himself, and therefore given up on someone he didn't even know. Even though he had attempted to say something, he still felt like he had just let some innocent kid walk off the roof of a building to his death. Intentionally. Suicide. He felt as if he had failed Alex, even though Alex had told him it's not his place to save someone from dying if they truly wanted to. And yet, as he stood over the broken and crumpled body that had once housed an innocent person, he still couldn't bring himself to break away, to look away. Bright, vibrant red was soaking into the pristine white snow, and as it trailed a path into the snow, it became dark as oil. Even though it had a direct line of motion towards Denver’s shoeless feet, where his toes were well on their way to becoming numb, he still didn't move. 

 

And then, there were hands on him, guiding him, turning him away from what he thought was probably his biggest mistake in his entire existence, leading him towards the doorway to the apartment building with the gentleness of a mother helping her child take his first steps. The shock was settling, and for once he felt as if he _ needed _ Alex, and more than anything, wanted to lay down. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to sleep or cry or scream, but it was one of the three.

 

D enver woke up on the couch again. He wasn't sure how it happened, but it wasn't like the last time. This time, Alex was leaning on him, his warmth becoming Denver’s. He rubbed at his eyes with his fists- they were swollen and sore, and when he turned to look at Alex, he could see the dried tear tracks on the raven’s pale face. And it was difficult, realizing that Alex had probably just witnessed one of the  _ worst _ mental breakdowns that Denver had ever had, and yet he was still there, and had even cried with him. 

 

Denver had never been more grateful.

 

And he wasn't exactly sure how much time they had left, but he knew it couldn't be more than a day or two. Possibly they could be dead the next day, and with the television out- he had found that out while talking with Alex- he wasn't sure. His suspicions, though, was that the meteor was much closer than everyone actually thought, and it would be coming soon. There was no way to tell…

 

Alex woke with a start next to him, and Denver felt a shiver travel through his spine. Not Denver’s own spine, Alex’s. 

 

“Are you cold?” Denver asked, even though he already knew the answer. He didn't wait for an answer, just silently unzipped his own sweatshirt and passed it to Alex. Alex took it without a word and spread it over the both of them.

 

“Thank you.” Alex almost whispered. 

 

A lex awoke to rustling of clothes, and the shifting of boxes. Otherwise, there was silence, and he was laying on his side, a pillow beneath his head, and a warm, wool blanket over him. He must've fallen asleep, he figured, and Denver had laid him down.

 

He looked over to the closet that they had just been in, what was it? 3 days ago? Maybe? He saw Denver’s lower half sticking out of the closet, he was on his hands and knees, digging around in it, looking for something. Denver made a small noise, and withdrew from where he was, and was silent. Alex turned when Denver didn't respond to him, giving him no answer to if he was okay, and saw the tattered, soiled cloth in his hands. Upon further inspection, it also seemed to have blue in it too, as well as white. Though it wasn't the flag for the country he was born from, Alex immediately recognized it as the American flag.

 

It had an obvious meaning to Denver, not the flag in general, or the thought of the flag, but the really tattered one in his hands had a backstory to it. Alex wasn't sure if it was a good or bad one, though. He stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor, padded over to where Denver was kneeling, and held his hand out for the flag. He received it without any sort of hesitation on Denver’s part. Looking at it a bit closer, Alex realized that there wasn't really any huge problems with it, only that there was a gash along one side, the edges were fraying, and it was dirty.

 

“My father used to be in the army. And I told you how I wanted to join the Marines eventually, but I wasn't able to apply before my college accepted me. I was to start college this coming fall,” Denver told Alex, explaining a bit because he could see the confusion on the other’s face. “I loved this country more than anything else in the world. I guess that’s faded now.”

 

Alex gave Denver one long look, and then glanced down at the flag in his hands. He had an idea, but he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to pull it off. But he was gonna try.

 

A number of days passed by quickly, and every time the sun rose on a new dawn, the world was getting worse. The day after Denver found the flag, electricity went out. They had showered in what little hot water was left, and made really terrible tasting coffee and instant ramen off of the small propane, one burner cooktop that Alex supplied. 

 

With some difficult, they began to gather bottles and other various containers and filling them with water, so that when the water went out, they'd have some. The water went out the next day.

 

The mafia, at least that's what Denver called them, went on a rampage through the city on their second to last day.  They had woken up to the destruction and the loud noises, and it seemed like the mafia was killing everything and everyone on sight. They were setting fires and destroying windows and storefronts, and Alex prayed that they wouldn't enter their apartment building. The two of them would have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide if they entered, and if they were to attempt to set the building on fire, they would either be burned alive, or dead because they'd thrown themselves off the roof in an attempt to escape the fire.

 

And while all of this was happening, Alex and Denver were pressed close together, curled up under mounds of blankets as the air got colder, shaking but not just from fear of the mafia. Frankly, Denver was terrified that he would freeze to death, because at that point he could see his physical breath in the air. 

 

They eventually fell asleep, and the blonde could see the prayers moving on Alex’s lips, and he hoped that he was praying that they'd make it through the night. Tomorrow would be the last day, the two were sure, and they weren't exactly sure on what they were gonna do. 

 

T he air was changing, it was a physical feeling. There was pressure, and the tingling feeling of something crawling on his skin, but every time his mind would trick him and he would look down, there would be nothing. By this point , Denver had become convinced that it was merely just the static electricity in the air, but he couldn't care less about trying to confirm it. He was currently standing on the roof of his apartment building, trying to comprehend that these were the last days of his life. And he  _ did  _ understand it, even if he didn't accept it necessarily. As he stared up at the sky, it gave no indication whether it was the middle of the night or just late evening.

 

The day had passed by with nothing interesting in it, only a lot of crying, a lot of praying, and gentle talk between the two. They had even gone outside, onto the street where they had once danced. There was no dancing this time, they were too tired and empty-willed. They did, however, lean against each other in the dim light of the sun, too terrified to look at the sky and see the meteor that was so close at this point, it was like you could see the individual craters on it. 

 

It was late evening now, and dinner had long been eaten, even though it didn't consist of much more than a flat bottle of soda, instant ramen, and even a chocolate bar Alex ad found down inside of his apartment. Denver wouldn't have given it for the world, the quiet dinner. It might not have been a luxurious dinner, but it gave him the sense of family he hadn't had in the longest time. They had headed upstairs afterwards, to the roof where Denver had watched someone fall, and to the roof where he had once gone for peace and quiet himself.

 

The fires burning on the street below provided a sort of ghastly light, causing untrustworthy figures to rise from the shadows. Where Denver stood, on the very edge of the building, the light of the moon, meteor, and fire outlined him. Should anyone who was standing on the street then, and  look up at him, he would have appeared as the angel of death, there to take the innocent souls to whatever afterlife there was.

 

And the meteor- he could feel it's presence in both his mind and in the atmosphere. It was forcing its way there, disturbing both his non-existent mental peace, and the natural flow of the earth. It was coming, and that didn't matter, however, because in only a few short days, in a mere matter of hours, it would all be over. Everything would be gone. It was only 11 days left, and life wasn't getting any easier.

 

It was on this roof, with the fires that had been burning below from the destruction the mafia had unleashed, Alex set Denver free. He had fixed the American flag- the one that they had found torn up and filthy- and was going to fly it for him. It was soft between Alex’s fingers, and he felt powerful in some sort of unorthodox way. Or maybe not. Alex knew that, well, more or less predicted that maybe this would finally save Denver from himself.

 

Said blonde stood off to one side as Alex hastily set up the pole that he had gone and searched hours upon hours around the cold, abandoned city for. Denver’s green eyes were curios, and followed every one of Alex’s precise movements with interest.

 

“Oh,” Denver’s muffled noise of realization met Alex’s ears. “You fixed it? And you're hanging it up?”

 

He was watching as the raven-haired male unfolded the flag, and there was a small spark of energy in Denver’s eyes once again. The air wasn't as cold as one might have thought, probably coming from the fires down below. They were casting shadows upon both of them, and it was half interesting and half terrifying.

 

“Mhm,” Alex hummed as he pulled the strings through the holes on the flag. “Why wouldn't I have?” His reply was smooth, and he never took his eyes off of what he was doing, making sure that he was doing it as quickly and precisely.

 

With a final tug of a thin rope, he grasped a thicker, sturdier rope in his hands and tugged. The flag began to rise quickly and smoothly with each pull, and the gentle breeze in the air was making it ripple softly, as if spirits were tugging the fabric this way and that. Alex supposed that under normal circumstances, the flag wouldn't have been as breathtaking as it was right then. However, with the sun glistening dimly on the fresh, white snow in deep comparison to the red stripes on the flag, and the blue shining off the stars in the night sky, it was simply beautiful.

 

Alex turned a side of his face into the breeze, he marveled in the smell of newly arriving spring. He almost forgot for a moment that spring would never come, but he caught himself before he could think about it anymore, and told himself not to dwell on the inevitable, not to dwell on the things that he wouldn't control.

 

“Denver Woods,” Alex announced loudly continued to look at the flag, his back turned to the blonde. He turned and smiled gently, tossing his black curls out of his face with a swift, elegant movement. His smile dropped to a mere half smile, as his heart was slowing down with the oncoming set of failure and anxiety, but he spread his arms wide.

 

“You are free!”

 

A nd free is how they would stay, sitting next to each other on the roof, legs dangling over as the sun began to rise slowly, and that one star in the sky grew bigger and bigger each second, the flag rippling in the wind behind them. They were content with silence as they observed the world around them, from the fires of the mafia’s destruction burned out beneath them. They weren't exactly sure how much time they had left, and by now they didn't care. They weren’t exactly ecstatic, but were happy with the presence of each other, and the grief of actually dying when they should have had so much more time wasn't there anymore. 

 

But fate is funny like that, huh? 

 

When the meteor was finally close enough, the two of them stood up together, side by side. Took one last look at the beautiful world around them, the one that had sheltered them for what they had of their lives, and let it sink in.  _ There's no more time. There's no more running or denying the truth. There's no more time... _

 

As the sky grew brighter with the seemingly heavenly fire, so bright he felt as if it would blind him, but he knew it wouldn't, Denver felt a hand slip into his, warm and soft compared to his cold and rough one. His was shaking, too, and he couldn't but help a pang of embarrassment, even though they were minutes away from no longer existing. When Alex’s fingers made their way between Denver’s, joining them together in one eternal moment, up on the roof of the apartment building where in their final days, they had shared tears, laughter, and reminisced childhood memories in. Two weeks ago, they were complete strangers, but now today, standing up on that rooftop, they had never felt more alive, and they felt as if they had been together for years.

 

And now? Denver called  _ him _ home. 

 

Alex turned his head to look at Denver, hair barely brushing over his eyes and the black curls dancing over his shoulders, and smiled- not the fake smile Denver had seen from him once or twice, but the old, genuine grin with the deeply dimpled cheeks and slightly crooked teeth that he had grown accustomed to and familiar with. “We almost made it, didn't we?” Alex grinned and gently squeezed Denver’s hand. Denver swallowed, trying to figure out how he was going to speak without his voice cracking. His throat was swelling with unshed tears, but somehow, his eyes were dry…

 

“We almost made it.”

 

The world flashed brightly with colors they had never seen before and gentle heat that was growing warmer with each passing second. The noise was deafening, and Denver closed his eyes- he could see the light even through his eyelids, his blood vessels in them too. He took a breath.

 

Then, there was nothing.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this in honor of Mrs. Crystal Sunell. She passed on January 24th, 2019. I wrote this under her guidance, and finished it over a several month period, finally publishing it to our school on May 4th, 2017. I would not have and could not have done this without her.


End file.
